


praise unto

by harpers_mirror (SapphireBryony)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: #blessie lives, Body Horror, Cults, Gen, long post-series, weird faux-scriptural prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBryony/pseuds/harpers_mirror
Summary: Praise, they said, and praise praise praise. Praise the Light that gives and does not burn, praise the Light that is life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first round challenge of Cutthroat Fiction on Tumblr. Prompt was "the Blessed Eternal - freeform" and sabotages forbade me from using Doug Eiffel or the Hephaestus. This was the result.

  


* * *

  


_From the log of Dr. Linnea Carver, mission day 3:_

The plant life here is _fascinating_ in its uniformity! It’s almost as though it was cultivated to grow this way. But agricultural data from the area show that the people who once lived here (at least in this region of the world) grew a variety of crops. 

_Crops._

Nothing that would account for the odd sameness in vegetation, and of a sort that is merely floral rather than food-producing. Will have to explore further to see if there is any apparent explanation for this strange phenomenon.

  


* * *

  


“The Progenitor tasted the Life-Seed for the first time and grew and grew and saw the light again. The Progenitor was the first and was all and was and remains part of us. We are each and we are all, from the first to the last to the end of the Light.”

_The vegetation filling the space shifted and rustled solemnly in time with the words. Praise, they said, and praise praise praise. Praise the Light that gives and does not burn, praise the Light that is life._

“And the stems took root in the minds of the Decaying Ones, burrowing deep into the meat and the pathways and purged the fragile weakness from their bodies and made them more. They became elevated, for a time, far beyond what they had been, what they could be on their own. The thieves of carbon understood not and resisted, as all who hide in Darkness hate the Light, as all who revel in decay hate the blessed Growth.”

_The rustling increased tenfold. Curse the thieves, curse the weak, the unworthy forms of life who do not understand and who fear and who waste and take and take and waste. Curse them, consume them, break them down and take back what they have stolen. They are Fertilizers, nothing more._

  


* * *

  


_From the log of Dr. Linnea Carver, mission day 7:_

The team has found more complete ruins from the old civilization that once lived here. There’s a...gathering space? amphitheatre? plaza? near our site. Our anthropologist remain unclear as to its original purpose but it appears to be filled with more of the strange vegetation that we’ve been seeing throughout the region. I intend to take some samples and see what I can uncover. Maybe it will hold some clues as to what became of the residents of PJ2-445. 

We head into the amphitheatre tomorrow.

  


* * *

  


“And so there came a great Champion from the ranks of the Decaying Ones, a warrior cunning and strong. She fought well and, though she served as an agent of the darkness, the Progenitor saw in her a kindred. They too would protect their kin; they too would fight for their home.”

_The rustling quieted. The Champion was a strange figure in their lore. Decaying though she was, the Progenitor had respected her and that respect lingered now in the teachings of the Blessed Eternal. The Champion had been unable to protect the Progenitor in the end, had not been able to stop the storm of fire, but she had tried and she had brought Seed and Light to them and so they spoke her name in reverence._

“In a great storm of fire, the Progenitor set forth from the home of the Oppressor and ventured forth in the Great Darkness. And the darkness was cold and vast and shriveled Their divine tendrils. But at last They found a new home, a haven in the cold and the dark and the ash, a home of Light and Fertilizers.”

_All praise the Progenitor, they who fought their way through the darkness to this beautiful world of Light, who fought the Oppressor and the Champion and the cold, crushing dark. They who laughed at the fire and the ash and made this paradise._

  


* * *

  


_From the log of Dr. Linnea Carver, mission day 9:_

The Life in this region is remarkable. It has survived untold hardships and persecution. It has relentlessly persisted through the ages of Darkness to last this long. 

The Amphitheatre has yielded much information about the growth of [garbled] - of the life in this region. Will press on tomorrow and find the Root.

  


* * *

  


“The Progenitor’s roots sank into soil and flesh once again and claimed this place as Their own, and from those first stems, those first roots creeping into that first flesh and compost, come we all. This is our story, their legacy and our creation, now as it shall ever be. As long as we speak the Word against the crushing dark, the Light the Progenitor sought to kindle shall stay aflame and we shall flourish as one. Praise be to the Progenitor; Praise be to the Light. As they have kept us thus far, may the Divine Tendrils protect us, enfolding us in the Light eternal.”

 _The rustling grew to a frenzy. A chant carried on the wind, though there was no one not already chanting to hear it: “Praise the Blessed Eternal, praise the Light Eternal. Praise and praise and praise.” The words drifted over lush green peaks and valleys, over thickets filled with trembling vines and rivers choked with more greenery. “Praise praise praise,” echoed the life on the hills. “Praise praise praise,” echoed the life in the stream._

  


* * *

  


_From the log of Dr. Linnea Carver, mission day 10:_

[the sound of peacefully rustling plants, uninterrupted for several minutes until - ]

“All praise and glory unto the Blessed Eternal.”

  


* * *

  


_“Praise praise praise,” echoed the vine-wrapped skeletons that filled the amphitheatre, their empty eye sockets turned up toward the dais. “All hail, all praise the Blessed Eternal, the Bringer of Life.”_

  


* * *

  



End file.
